


Me I'm Not

by Desade, Eviscera



Series: Ouchy-Verse [6]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Blood, Fingerfucking, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Play, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desade/pseuds/Desade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviscera/pseuds/Eviscera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint knows that Loki still has some secrets hidden away; most notably the truth of his parentage.  Will Loki finally open up enough to share that side of himself with his archer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me I'm Not

“C’mon, Princess,” Clint called from the living room.  ”I’m getting bored out here all by myself!”

“Patience, my Hawk” Loki returned, feeling a pleased grin spread across his face.  ”From what I hear it is a virtue to your kind.”

Clint laughed.  ”Case you haven’t noticed, I’m not that virtuous.”

“Oh, I have definitely made note of that,” the god purred as he entered the room and crossed to the couch.  ”And I approve.”

“Good.  Now c’mere and talk to me.”

Loki settled back into the cushions, half turned toward the archer as he sprawled across his end of the couch.  It had been several weeks since Clint’s return home, bloody and concussed.  Several weeks since they had talked deep into the night, sharing bits of themselves they had previously kept hidden.  Clint had been slightly distressed to find how little he knew of Loki, and the god was hungry for every tiny detail of his Hawk’s life from before their paths had crossed.

And so this small tradition had been born.  

Once a week the archer and his god took their places, curled on either end of the couch, and they laid bare their souls.  Questions were asked, and answered.  Thoughts, ideas and memories exchanged, no subjects being taboo.  Sometimes the words were bitter, or angry; other times soft and sweet.  And in the process each learned much about the other.

Loki grinned at Clint, giving the archer a slight nod.  ”I do believe it is your turn to begin, my Hawk.  What would you know of me?”

It was one of those rare nights where Clint wasn’t bandaged or bruised or nursing some other injury.  These were the nights he looked forward to, because as much as neither could keep their hands off each other most nights, it was these talks that brought them closer.

There was no end of questions Clint wanted to ask; Loki’s history was so much _more_ than his own.  He had a feeling they could talk until there were no more words left, and still he would never know everything he wanted.  Clint had already learned so much, just in the weeks since they’d begun this little ritual, but he knew there were always going to be gaps.  He’d already held back some of his more pressing questions; Loki’s sore spots were many, and they ran deep.  Clint had learned the hard way more than once what asking the wrong questions could trigger.

But at the same time, he was curious.  He found he had to bite his tongue more often than he was used to, and that struck his as horribly unfair to them both.  He wanted to know what Loki had been like before he’d fallen, what had turned him so bitter and resentful that he’d felt no choice but to splinter away from everything he’d once known.

Loki had told him, of course, of the rift between father and son, and the reasons behind it.  It only fanned his curiosity higher.  Loki was remarkably tight-lipped about the details of his parentage, despite his willingness to expound on any number of other things.  It was this hesitation that made Clint wary of asking anything that might lead to that particular subject.

Clint had already told the god nearly everything about himself, from his childhood to how he’d come to work for an agency like S.H.I.E.L.D., hiding nothing, no matter how painful or damning his answers might be.  Loki listened to it all, and even when it seemed to Clint as if he’d painted himself in the most despicable light, he would feel the warmth of the god’s touch on his arm, or the crown of his head, or his slumped shoulder, and it wouldn’t matter.  Nothing Clint could tell him would color Loki’s view of him.  He would always just be his Hawk, nothing more and certainly nothing less.

Why then, would Loki not trust him with this bit of himself?  It galled him, and if he was being truthful, it hurt to know that he was holding back. 

To stay by his side, to tie himself to someone like Clint wasn’t easy, it took more patience than most people could muster, but he’d done it, _was_ doing it.  There was no way he could just ignore the extent of Loki’s feelings for him, not after what they’d come through to get to this point.  Loki had pretty much given up everything he was so he could be with Clint.

“Don’t you… miss your home?” he finally asked, lifting curious blue eyes to the expectant face.  “You said before you can’t go back, but don’t you ever want to?”

Loki’s eyes took on that faraway cast that had become so familiar to Clint.  When the god spoke of Asgard, his face tightened ever so slightly, and his gaze seemed fixed somewhere in the distance.  He was obviously seeing the Golden City in his mind; reliving his time there.  And it was clear to Clint that the memories were not always pleasant.

“There are…aspects I do miss,” Loki said with a sigh.  ”My mother…Frigga.  She never made me feel as though I was anything other than her treasured son.  And she was one of the few that never thought of my affinity for magic as odd.  It pains me that the last time she lay eyes on me I was shackled and muzzled like a feral beast.”

The god’s brows drew together, and he fell silent for a long moment before continuing.  

“I hope to go back someday, if for no other reason than to see Frigga again.  I know that Thor has let her know that I am well, but…I wish to allow her to see the change in me herself.  Beyond that, there is not much that I miss of Asgard.  I never _truly_ fit in, and people there were not shy in making sure I knew that.”

Clint could well imagine why Loki would want to see Frigga again; even if they shared no blood, it was obvious Loki still regarded her as his mother, and as such, would want her to see how far he’d come from the broken, defeated thing she no doubt remembered him.  He would want her to be proud of the son she’d raised, even if he could never measure up to her true child. 

It was difficult, though, for Clint to believe there was nothing else he missed of his home.

“That can’t be the _only_ thing,” Clint pressed.  “You said before, you had friends.  Maybe you weren’t exactly happy, but this place can’t be much better.”

Loki gave Clint a soft smile, and stroked his hand down his Hawk’s arm.  ”Asgard cannot compare to this realm, for it was on Midgard that I found you.”

“Sentiment,” Clint chuckled.  ”Remember how dead set against that you used to be?”

Loki’s smile spread into a wide grin before he gave a slight nod.  ”You have me there.  And you are correct.  There were a few I called friend in Asgard. None that would inspire me to return and attempt to integrate myself once more.  But there were times that I was _very_ happy.”

That grin faltered then, and Loki’s gaze dropped from Clint’s.  ”I know that Thor wishes me to return someday.  But I do not know if that is a wish I can grant.  If I once fancied myself the outsider; the monster that parents told tales of to frighten wayward children, well…I have fulfilled that role far better than I ever thought.  It will be an age before those in the Golden City forget what I have done, much less forgive.”

And there it was again; the allusion to something Clint still balked at asking about.  What was it that caused that veil to drop over his eyes, to call himself a monster even before he’d ever fallen? 

Thor would sometimes tell him of how he was glad Loki was becoming more like his old self.  From what Clint could see, his old self was far from the monster Loki painted himself as.

“Forgiveness is a funny thing sometimes,” Clint said.  “You’re not a monster, Loki.  Maybe you _were_ , but that was…  you’re just not, okay?”

“I am glad you do not see me as such, my Hawk,” Loki said quietly.  ”But there are things I have done that earned me such a title long before my madness fully took hold.  And while these deeds are in the past, I cannot fully make my amends.  Not to my satisfaction, at least.”

“Still,” Clint replied.  ”You’re not that person  _now_.  I don’t see a monster when I look at you.”

“No.  But that is only because I keep my secret side well hidden.  Were it not for Odin’s glamor, I daresay you would not look upon me so favorably.”

Clint was silent for a beat, then asked slowly, “What do you mean, exactly?”

Loki bowed his head and murmured, “You know I am not a true son of Odin.  But have you any idea what I _really_ am, Clint?”

Clint was silent for a few moments, taking in the lowered head and slumped shoulders of the god sitting before him, and felt a shiver of unease creep up his spine.

“No,” he said, his voice quiet and subdued.  “You don’t like it when I ask about that, so I don’t.”

Loki silence stretched out far longer than Clint’s, until he felt that perhaps that was the end.  Then he slowly nodded, keeping his eyes downcast.

“It is true, I loathe the subject of my lineage,” he finally said.  “It is one of those things that I… am not proud of.”

Clint could sympathize; he didn’t often look back at his own upbringing with fondness, and tried to think about it as little as possible.  Nights like these, however, always brought it close to the surface, and he doubted it was any less true for Loki as well.

“I thought that’s what this was all about,” Clint said, shifting closer to where Loki was huddled into himself.  “We’re supposed to tell each other this stuff.  You know all about me, and you stuck around.”

Loki’s eyes lifted from beneath his brows to spear Clint with a contemplative glare before they slid to the side uneasily.  “It is easier to see the light in your deeds, Clint, because that is your nature.  True, there is darkness in you, but that is not all that you are.  I… well, I had to _learn_ it.  The being you see before you is not what I was meant to be, my Hawk.  And I fear your hatred above all else, I do not want you to see how very much a monster I truly am.”

Okay, now Clint was getting a little nervous.  This didn’t sound like his attempts to avoid the subject, to hide his past so Clint wouldn’t know all the terrible things he’d done.  It sounded like there was actually something he was terrified of revealing, something that would cause Clint to truly hate him.

“You forget, Princess?” he asked, ducking his head to catch Loki’s eye.  “I’ve seen you at your worst.  I’m not going anywhere.  You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to.”  There was a long pause as he let Loki take his words in, testing the truth of them.  Then, finally, “I’d really like it if you did, though.”

Clint watched as Loki battled an internal war on whether or not to finally tell of his lineage.  The dark god was nearly thrumming with nervous energy, his hands twisting and twining in his lap.  Clint remained silent as Loki struggled; he’d said his piece, and now it was up to the god if he’d come clean or not.

The scary thing was that Clint literally had no idea what Loki was going to say.  All he’d been told up to this point was that the god was ‘not of Asgard’ and that he’d been ‘adopted’.  After he’d asked the first time, and Loki had refused to divulge his true parentage, Clint had questioned Thor.  The thunder god’s response had only made him more uneasy.

“Ask Loki,” was all he’d said, his face gone grim.  ”It is not my tale to tell.”

That familiar, long-suffering sigh sounded then, and Loki began to quietly speak, seemingly almost to himself.

“I was taken as a trophy.  A spoil of war.  I did not understand that when Odin said Thor and I were both born to be kings, he was speaking the truth.  Thor was meant to rule Asgard, and I…I was meant to hold the throne of Jotunheim.”  

Loki raised his head, fixing his Hawk with a steady gaze.  To anyone else his face would have appeared expressionless, but Clint had become quite adept at reading the small signs of Loki’s distress.  The slight widening of his eyes, and the tightness around his mouth spoke volumes on how close the god was to panicking.

Clint’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, returning the god’s stare.  ”You’re from Jotunheim?  And a member of the royal family, no less?”

Loki swallowed hard and gave a slight nod, his lower lip caught between his teeth.  His eyes searched Clint’s nervously, awaiting his Hawk’s reaction to this revelation.

The confusion was clear on Clint’s face as asked simply, “What’s so wrong with that?”

He knew he was missing something, but he’d be damned if he could figure out just what it was.  It was obvious from Loki’s hesitation that he’d just revealed something of great significance, but to Clint, it was like trying to make sense of politics.  He already knew Loki was a prince, that wasn’t news to him.  So he now knew he was the prince of some other place he’d never known existed.

Loki was looking at him as if waiting for the punchline to a joke.  His brows drew together over questioning eyes, his head tilted slightly to the side, jaw slack.  He blinked slowly, and Clint could practically hear the gears in his head grinding, trying to realign with something he hadn’t anticipated.

Clint wasn’t sure how Loki had expected him to react, but this obviously wasn’t it.

“Do you… truly not know?” Loki finally unfroze enough to ask.

Clint shrugged helplessly.  “I guess not?  What am I supposed to know?”

Loki gaped at Clint’s guileless expression as he searched for the proper words to convey his dismay at the discovery of his true bloodline. 

“The Jotunn are _monsters_ ,” he finally sputtered.  ”Savage beasts that have no honor, and no desire other than to destroy that which they do not care to conquer!  They have been the sworn enemies of Asgard for ages untold, hated and feared above all other races!  Once, long ago, they set their sights on Midgard, and Odin battled to save your realm, driving the Jotunn back to their home.  The All-Father and his army followed them back, intent on laying waste to the creatures…and that is when I was taken.”

Clint mulled over Loki’s words, holding his silence for a long moment before speaking.  ”So how does that make them monsters?  What you just described sounds like any number of insurgent groups I’ve faced.  Misguided, yes.  But not monsters.”

Loki drew back slightly, his breath hitching in his throat.  ”Y-you do not understand,” he stated emphatically, his voice low and slightly hoarse.  ”In the Golden City there are many works of art that depict the cheerful slaughter of the Jotunns.  Aesir children play games that center around Odin’s defeat of the savage race, and parents use the very name of the creatures to strike fear in the hearts of their wayward offspring.  There is no greater insult than to refer to someone as ‘Jotunn spawn’.”  

Loki stopped short, nearly panting in his distress.  ”I was raised to hate the very thing that I am.  And I did not discover the truth of my nature until I stood on the surface of that forsaken ice planet, at Thor’s side as he sought to exterminate the Jotunn threat.  A threat that I myself invited into what I _thought_ was my home.”

Clint wanted to argue.  He wanted to yell and rant and rail against the poison Loki was parroting back at him, that he had no doubt learned from the moment he could comprehend speech.  Not for the first time, Clint wondered just what kind of entity could call itself benevolent and still foster such hatred in his people.

“You’re not a _thing_ , Loki,” Clint said.  There was a hard edge to his voice that made Loki pause his frantic breathing, and he blinked at Clint as if he’d been slapped.  “You know how hard it is for me to sit here and listen to you talk about yourself like that?  You don’t really think that, do you?”

It was clear from Loki’s silence and the misery in his eyes that he did.  Clint’s teeth ground together, his fists clenching at the thought of his god hanging on to such hatred of himself.  If there was one thing Clint truly did hate, it was injustice of any kind, and the cruelty of what Loki had gone through hit Clint like a punch to the gut.  It was obvious that this was not a new development, and Loki had had centuries of bile and venom to spew at himself over the course of his punishment.

How was Clint meant to undo all of that?  Should he even attempt to try?

“How can I think of myself as anything other than the monster I was raised to hate?  I was taught that the only appropriate response when faced with a Jotunn was…disgust.  This was ground into me over the course of my life.  And when I finally had dealings with the Jotunn, I could scarcely bring myself to look upon them.”

A shudder wrung through Loki at that, his mind turning back to that moment, recalling that long ago exchange.

“You find me pleasing to look upon, do you not,” Loki asked quietly, his gaze once more directed to his hands.

“Of course,” Clint answered in a bewildered tone.  ”You know I do.”

“This form is a lie,” the god said flatly.  ”A glamor laid upon me the day Odin claimed me as his pawn to enable him to bring me to Asgard undetected.  To raise me alongside Thor without throwing his people into a panic.  My true visage is…hideous.”

That was it, Clint had heard more than enough to know he couldn’t just let this lie.  He watched Loki fight with himself for every word; he could tell he wanted nothing more than for Clint to never know this about him.  There was too much bitterness in his words for it to be an act, he well and truly hated himself for what he was.

Well, Clint wasn’t going to sit around and let him keep on thinking that way.  If he could forgive him for all that he’d done, then it _must_ be possible for Loki to realize he wasn’t defined by what others thought.

“Show me,” he said quietly.

Loki’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and terror-stricken.  “ _No_ ,” he said, his voice a cutting edge that threatened to draw blood.

Clint glared back evenly, unwilling to bend to the god’s whims this time.  It was too important for him to let Loki get away with what he knew was the exact wrong thing for him.

“I’ve seen ugly, Loki,” Clint said, his voice just as unyielding as the god’s.  “I’ve seen what true ugliness is.  People demonizing each other so they can justify what they’re doing to them.  You make someone believe they’re fighting monsters, it makes for one hell of a mess to clean up.”

Loki’s eyes wavered under his Hawk’s steady gaze.  It was true, in the time Loki had been living among the Midgardians, he’d seen for himself just what they were capable of.  All he need do was look out the window to see what Clint meant. 

Clint watched Loki’s face as he took in his words, gauging his expressions carefully.  He was adept at hiding his true feelings, and even Clint had a hard time pinning them down when he truly wanted them hidden.  Right now was one of those times.

“I do not wish for you to see what I am, Clint,” Loki whispered.  “You know nothing of a Jotunn’s true nature.”

“And you don’t know me very well if you really think that’s going to stop me,” Clint returned, firming his jaw into a scowl.  “Why don’t you let _me_ be the judge of what I think is hideous?  I’m a big boy, I think I can handle it.”

 

“Why though,” Loki asked in a tense voice.  ”Why would you _want_ to see me like…that?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I,” Clint shot back.  ”I’ve told you before; I just want _you_ , Loki.  It doesn’t matter to me what you look like.  Not really.  There’s so much more to you than looks.”

“You say that now,” the god snapped.  ”But when you look upon my true face that will change.”

Clint drew back slightly and fixed Loki with a wounded stare.  ”Do you really think I’m that shallow?  That as soon as I see you in your Jotunn form I’m just gonna walk?  C’mon, Loki.  You know better than that.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” Loki growled.  ”And neither do you.  Offering blind promises and platitudes does little to reassure me in this matter.  All this time you have known me as I am now; your pale skinned and lissome whore.  But hidden inside me is a beast, and you have no idea how you will react to the sight of such a thing.”

Clint’s wounded expression turned to a thunderous scowl, and he leveled the full weight of it on the god before him.

“So you’ve been lying to me this whole time?” he bit out.  “It’s all an act, then?  What the hell are you even doing with me if you were gonna keep this a secret?  Hope I wouldn’t find out?”

Each question seemed to hit Loki like a well-aimed shot, and he couldn’t help but feel betrayed at the thought of Loki keeping something like this hidden.  He’d thought they were past this, the anger and the hurt and the betrayal, but it had only shifted course. 

And damn if it didn’t hurt even more now that they both knew what they were to each other.  At least, Clint had _thought_ he knew.  He wasn’t so sure now, he was starting to wonder if Loki really felt all that he said he did.  What if it was just a ploy to keep him around until Loki grew bored of him?  He couldn’t imagine why he would keep this from Clint if he was as important as he’d been lead to believe he was.

That just seemed to feed the anger, it was a familiar heat low in his belly.  It had been banked for so long, he almost forgot what it felt like, but now he could feel it rising again, flames licking at the softer feelings he’d only recently begun to allow to grow.

He could feel his walls going back up, shielding himself from the torrent of hurt he could feel just behind the anger.

And still, Loki was silent.

“You know, fuck it, I don’t care,” Clint finally snapped.  “You obviously don’t believe me when I say it doesn’t matter to me what you are, so I guess just keep your god damn secrets.”

Each word from his Hawk’s mouth served to deepen the misery Loki felt, twisting the barbs around his heart that much tighter.  The god was very aware of just how much he had hurt the archer with his accusations, and he cursed both his wayward tongue and the panic which had caused him to lash out at the one person he should trust above all others.  Loki’s eyes prickled and his vision wavered at the thought that he may have just irreparably damaged the trust that had grown between them.

“I cannot fault you your anger,” Loki said, his voice hollow.  ”It is true that I hoped you never to discover this particular secret.  But not because I wished to mislead you, Clint.  Only that…I loathe this part of myself so completely that I have even lied to myself about it.  I try never to think of what I am, convincing myself that the face I see in the mirror is my true image.”

Loki raised his eyes to Clint’s, taking in the closed off expression on his Hawk’s face.  

“I have never shown anyone my Jotunn form,” the god whispered, an edge of pleading in his tone.  ”Not even Thor has ever seen me without my glamor.”  Loki bit back a strangled sob before finishing.  ”My greatest fear is losing you; either through death or my own ruinous actions.  Can you not see why I would hesitate to show you the monster within?  You say that it does not matter to you, but I cannot help wonder if this will be the thing that drives you from my side.”

And with that, Loki buried his face in his hands, frantically struggling to stave off the sobs that threatened to overtake him.

Clint steeled his gaze against the sight of Loki’s tears.  He _hated_ to see him cry, and it was worse when it was his fault.  It seemed to happen with alarming frequency, no matter how hard he tried, and each time, Clint felt a little more of his walls crumble to dust.

He could feel it happening even now, but there was still the anger and betrayal to contend with, and so he shunted that guilt off to the side and tried to focus on why he was angry to begin with.

“I’ve only ever asked one thing of you, Loki,” he said, his voice low and even.  “Don’t lie to me.  I’ve been lied to enough, I shouldn’t have to get that from you, too.  If anything was going to drive me away, that’s what it would be.”

He watched as a shudder wracked Loki’s body, and the hitching breaths that heralded more tears leaked out from around the hands covering his face.  There was something within Clint that railed against the sight of his god hurting, but Clint was hurting, too, and he’d had enough.  If Loki couldn’t see past his own fear and let Clint in, he _would_ lose him.

“I don’t want that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “I just want to know you.  All of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki murmured, his voice muffled, face still obscured.  ”I-I should know by now that I can trust you.  But there is a small part of me that insists I can trust no one when it comes to this particular secret.”

Loki slowly lowered his hands and uttered a deep sigh before sliding his gaze to the side to meet his Hawk’s.

Clint’s breath caught in his throat as Loki levered a hesitant, wary look his way.  Those familiar green eyes had been washed a deep garnet, nearly glowing in the dim light of the living room.  The color was stark against Loki’s pale skin, but as Clint watched, a faint blue flush began to creep over Loki’s face.

The change happened slowly, the glamor fading bit by slow bit, almost as if Loki were trying to ease into his Jotunn form.  Whether that was for his own sake or Clint’s, the archer could not say, and he held his silence as Loki allowed his true form to emerge.

The god’s skin tone darkened, becoming the deep blue of glacial ice before darker ridges and whorls swam into view.  They seemed almost decorative, swooping low over his brow and bracketing Loki’s mouth before tracing down the sides of his throat.  When he raised one hand to nervously tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, Clint’s eyes were drawn to the patterns there, and he absently noticed that Loki’s nails had turned black.

The silence stretched out, and those red eyes stayed locked on Clint’s own steel-blue, carefully gauging the archer’s reaction.  When the tension became nearly unbearable, Loki broke the quiet, asking in a rough voice, “What have you to say now, Clint?” 

Clint was riveted to the sight of Loki’s transformation.  He hadn’t thought he would give in quite so soon; he had been prepared to wait all night if it came to it.  It was just proof that Loki really did fear losing Clint more than he feared being shunned for his true form.

He was waiting for the monster Loki had described to emerge.  All he saw before him was a blue-skinned, red-eyed Loki.  Nothing much different, certainly nothing hideous.

And then Loki spoke, and something within Clint dropped low and rumbled its interest.  That voice that had come so very close to undoing him completely, the velvet and smoke that purred so enticingly in his ear, was now a growling baritone that he could _feel_ in his chest.  He forgot how to breathe for just a split second, and his breath hitched at the thrum he felt shooting through his body at the sound.

Loki was watching him warily, those claret eyes locked on his own.  Clint had no idea what his face was conveying, but it didn’t seem to be putting Loki’s mind at ease.  He could see the panic welling up, threatening to ruin this moment with yet more misunderstandings.

Leaning forward, Clint reached a tentative hand towards Loki’s face.  The god’s eyes fell to that hand and watching it warily, as if he expected at any moment to be struck.  Clint merely rested his palm against the side of his face and leaned closer still, until there was only breath between them.

“Thank you,” he whispered, before resting his forehead against Loki’s.

There was no mistaking the surprise in those garnet eyes at Clint’s reaction, the way they widened slightly, darting back and forth.  Loki’s mouth gaped and he breathed out a quiet, “Oh,” before trailing away to silence once more.

Clint pulled back just enough to study Loki’s face in its entirety, noting that his features had roughened just a bit, lessening that delicate bone structure.  Tracing his thumb along the raised line that curved along Loki’s jaw, Clint murmured, “I like these.  Do they mean something, or are they just for show?”

“I-I do not know,” Loki answered in that rumbling voice, wrenching a shiver from Clint.  The god looked at his Hawk curiously, browns drawn together, and asked, “Are you…alright?”

“Never better,” Clint grinned.  ”I gotta say, your voice has always done it for me…but now?  All low and gravely?  Fuck, Loki.  That’s not even fair.”

The look the god gave the archer was pure shock.  ”Y-you find me pleasing?  Even in _this_ form?”

 

“You’re still _you_ ,” Clint stated emphatically.  ”So yeah, absolutely.  I just don’t see this monster you were going on about.  I only see you, Loki.”

Clint still wasn’t sure what Loki thought his reaction would be, but it was obvious this wasn’t it.  If he thought it would disgust him, he was sorely mistaken.  True, Clint had never seen any other Jotunn, so he had nothing to compare it to, but Loki’s true form was no less attractive to him than the one he’d always known.

It was clear Loki had some hesitation, even now, with being comfortable in this form.  Clint could understand why, if what he’d said about the Jotunn as a people was true.  His appearance didn’t make him monstrous, however, and Clint was determined to show him that.

Sliding closer, Clint shoved Loki’s thighs apart and knelt on the cushions between them, holding that strange red gaze all the while.  He kept one hand against the side of his face, while the other slid into inky black hair.  He felt Loki’s hands alight on his upper thighs, hesitantly, as if he feared Clint would rebuke his touch.

It started slowly, a brush of his nose against Loki’s, a stroke of his thumb against his jaw, and then his lips were brushing against the still-slack mouth of the slightly trembling god.

“I will never not want you, Loki,” he murmured against his mouth.  “I know I’ve told you that before.  Don’t make me keep repeating myself.”

And then his mouth claimed Loki’s.

Loki’s heart was pounding in his chest as Clint lips pressed against his in a soft kiss.  And for as violent as his heart was, his body remained still and cautious, no movement aside from the hands at his Hawk’s thighs.  The god gripped Clint lightly, steadying him as the kiss deepened.  When the archer’s tongue sought entry, Loki parted his lips and a feral growl rode unbidden in his chest.

That his Hawk still wanted him, still desired him in this form was more than Loki had ever dared dream.  He’d expected a familiar look of disgust to darken Clint’s gaze, but all he saw contained within the archer’s gaze was the longing that always burned behind those steel-blue eyes.  

That growl Loki voiced went straight to Clint’s gut, and the archer shifted position, straddling the god’s lap, knees snugged tight outside Loki’s hips.  He pressed in closer, licking across Loki’s now panting mouth, watching as those ruby eyes grew hooded in desire.  

The god grinned up at his Hawk, showing teeth far sharper than they usually were, and Clint felt a shudder wring through him at the thought of those teeth nipping at his flesh, marking him harshly and washing his skin in red.

“You still taste the same,” Clint murmured as one hand slid down Loki’s chest to palm his growing arousal.  ”Your mouth does, at least.  Kinda makes me want to taste the rest of you, just to be sure.”  

He felt the hardening flesh under his hand give a twitch, and heard what Clint could only describe as a _purr_ rumble through Loki’s chest.  He took that as a sign, and set about removing the shirt keeping the rest of Loki’s transformed body from his view.

 

As he revealed more and more of his upper body, he saw those raised lines weren’t present only on his face and hands, but _everywhere_.  They trailed down the long line of his throat, over his chest, and met with even more that curled around his shoulders and ribs.  In his mind’s eye, Clint could see so clearly how he would like to trace each with this tongue, following them wherever they happened to lead.

It was too tempting, and he leaned in and licked over Loki’s throat, lapping at the new texture curiously.  He wasn’t prepared for the reaction he got; the god’s hips bucked sharply into his hand and the hands resting on his thighs turned to claws, gripping him hard enough to bruise.  That rumbling purr became a low, dangerous growl, and if it wasn’t for the very insistent cock pulsing in his grip, Clint would almost thing he’d angered him somehow.

“Guess they’re not just for show, then,” he murmured against the heated skin below his lips, before pressing the edge of his teeth against the raised skin.

“I-it would seem not,” Loki panted, then fairly snarled as Clint’s teeth nipped at the ridges decorating his throat.  Waves of pleasure like none he’d ever known tore through the god, fanning the flames of arousal until Loki felt he may simply burst.  Clint’s mouth hot against his skin, teeth sharp on those strange whorls and lines made him want to howl out his lust and an ache rose in his jaws.  He felt the urge to bite; to mark; to claim his Hawk in his entirety.

Clint’s other hand dropped from Loki’s hair and he quickly undid the god’s pants, mouth still working as his hands dove inside to free Loki’s cock.  He rocked back then, gaze crawling slowly down Loki’s body to take in the sight before him.

The god was pressed back into the cushions, his posture relaxed, yet tense with need.  Garnet eyes glimmered with lust, and his chest heaved, drawing breath like a drowning man.  The azure skin served to highlight the darker lines, and Clint reached out to drag one nail down the path that ran over Loki’s abdomen, leading him to the god’s insistent length.  

Wrapping his hand around Loki’s cock prompted a low and feral growl, and Clint’s eyes raised to find the god’s lips skinned back over sharp teeth in a display of want so intense that the archer felt his own cock twitch in response.  He gave a harsh squeeze then, a smirk blooming full on his face as that snarl sounded again and Loki’s hips bucked up into his grip.

“Getting impatient, Princess?” he asked, giving the flesh in his hand a slow stroke.

Loki’s answer was another tilt of his hips and a glare of need that shot straight down Clint’s spine to settle low in his belly.  Suddenly, his pants were way too tight, his free hand lowering to palm himself through the denim of his jeans.

Sharp teeth flashed in an amused grin as Loki rumbled up at him, “I see I am not the only one, my Hawk.” 

He lifted one hand and slid it beneath Clint’s shirt to feel the tight, trembling muscles of his abdomen, feeling them shift as his breathing picked up.  His hand trailed further north, lifting the shirt with it, before those darkened nails raked over the hard planes of his chest.

Clint swore and tightened his grip around Loki’s flesh, and the god threw his head back with a snarl, pushing his hips clear from the couch, lifting Clint right along with him.  The display was more than enough for Clint to want to be done with teasing.  His hand left that throbbing length to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside without a spare thought.  Leaning down, he braced himself above Loki, who panted up at him with a challenging glare.

This would not be like the other times, where Loki begged and pleaded for his Hawk to take him.  No, Clint would have to earn every bit of Loki’s submission.

As he grinned back into those glittering eyes, he had to admit, he was looking forward to the challenge.

Loki surged up, latching his mouth onto Clint’s shoulder and finally giving in to his urge to bite.  He pressed his teeth into his Hawk’s flesh, trying to hold back from going too deep, and sucked a harsh bruise into that golden skin.  Clint wailed and ground down against his god, one hand diving into Loki’s hair to twist and tug as he licked across the angry red mark, small beads of blood welling from the teeth-marks left behind.

Clint twisted atop Loki, gasping as he drew those sharp teeth free from his flesh and licked a heated path over the bruise.  That beast inside sat up and took notice at the way the god’s tongue dragged at his skin, almost prickling and feeling very much like being washed by a large cat. Clint shuddered as his mind supplied all the ways he could put a tongue like that to use.

Loki chuckled, a dark sound, and he asked in the rumbling voice, “It seems you like certain aspects of this form, do you not?”

“Fuck,” Clint panted, teasing his fingertips up and down the god’s straining length.  ”Pretty sure I like _all_ aspects of this…”

A pleased growl rolled through Loki’s chest, both at his Hawk’s words and his touch.  It seemed to Clint that he was becoming more accustomed to being in this form, at least when it was just the two of them.  Clint’s obvious acceptance of his true nature seemed to lift the heavy weight that had been holding him back, and as his hands wandered over Clint’s body, he could only feel relief that this hadn’t ended as badly as it had first appeared.

And besides, it would be a shame for all the new potential for this form to go to waste.  Loki was showing him exactly what he could expect from that tongue as he lathed the skin of his chest, the rough texture dragging against him almost like sandpaper.  Every so often, he would feel the sharp nip of those wicked teeth pressing into his skin, drawing beads of blood to the surface to be licked away by that rasping tongue.  The whole process was scratching an itch Clint had never even known he’d suffered, and all he could do was grasp a firm hand-hold and ride out the sensations.

When he finally came back to himself, he looked down to see Loki gazing up at him, eyes narrowed as his tongue circled around a peaked nipple.  Clint breath hitched, and he could only bite his lip and watch as those sharp fangs pierced his skin, drawing the blood to the surface.  He cried out and bucked his hips, grinding his now-painfully hardened arousal into Loki’s firm belly.

He was starting to lose it a little bit.  He had to get his head back in the game, or he was going to lose before it had even started.  The inner beast within him wouldn’t abide a forfeit just because Loki had found new buttons to push.

Tightening his hand into a fist buried deep within Loki’s hair, Clint pulled that grasping mouth from his flesh.  He snarled at the sight of his own blood staining those otherwise pristine white teeth, and he darted forward and took Loki’s mouth with his own, licking across his lips before slipping his tongue past them to swipe over those fangs.  The taste of his own blood on Loki’s tongue caused a switch to flip in his head, and he wanted nothing more than to claim this feral creature that dared bleed him.

Clint’s mouth pressed down against Loki’s, and the god strained up against his Hawk, each fighting for dominance.  That rumbling growl echoed through Loki’s chest and Clint answered with a snarl of his own, biting down sharply on the god’s lower lip.  And suddenly, before Clint was even aware that Loki was moving, the god was on his feet, striding across the room to slam Clint’s back up against the wall.  

Loki pressed one black-nailed hand to the center of Clint’s chest, pinning him against the wall.  He grinned down at the archer, that long tongue sliding out to clean the last traces of Clint’s blood from his lips as he purred, “How aggressive you are, my Hawk.  I think you need to be broken.  And once I bring you low with lust, then I will claim you as mine.”

Clint bucked against Loki’s hand, groaning at the dark promise in his words.  ”Oh, you can _try_ ,” he panted.  ”But we’ll see who claims who…”

With a pleased hum, Loki’s free hand slipped into the waistband of Clint’s jeans, and he held the archer’s heated gaze as he ripped away the tough material, exposing his Hawk to his eyes.

Vaguely, Clint felt he should be intimidated by Loki’s sudden urge to rend the clothing from his body, but he was too caught up in the thrill of the power struggle to really care.  He strained against the hand holding him immobile, gripping the wrist of the hand pinning him and twisting it to the side.  Clint surged forward before spinning, slamming Loki against the wall in his place. 

When Loki snarled down at him, Clint merely returned his glare before darting forward, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh of Loki’s neck.  He couldn’t hope to break the tough skin with his blunt mortal teeth, but he could damn well leave a nasty bruise, and he proceeded to do just that, sucking hard to leave a mark.  Sliding one thigh between Loki’s legs, Clint pinned him against the wall with his weight.  His hips ground against the heard flesh of Loki’s need, pulling a ragged moan from the god’s throat.

Clint wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d won.  He was looking forward to the struggle that would soon follow after Loki regained his purpose.

It came all too soon, and he felt long fingers twine through his hair to tug him away from the abused flesh beneath his teeth.

“You will find I am not so easily swayed in this form,” he rumbled, holding Clint’s gaze with sparking crimson.  “I mean to have you, my Hawk.  This struggle will only prolong the path to the inevitable end.”

Clint glared back defiantly.  “You think so?” he rasped, his own voice gone low and gravelly with barely-suppressed want.

With only that taunting question as warning, Clint suddenly dropped to his knees before the blue-skinned god and gripped his hips in a strong grip.  Loki’s cock was heavy and twitching between his legs, the skin gone a dark purple with his arousal.  Even in his own frantic state, Clint noted those same patterns adorned him even here, and as Loki watched from above, Clint’s tongue snaked out and traced along the path that led from base to tip.  Looking upwards, he caught Loki’s gaze and held it as he took him into his mouth.

Loki tipped back his head and howled as Clint wrapped his lips around his cock.  The sound caused a shiver to crawl up the archer’s spine, and as he flicked his tongue against the tip of the god’s length, Loki’s gaze dropped back to Clint’s face.  Long fingers slid through his Hawk’s hair before fisting harshly and dragging Clint forward.  And that feral growl rose again as Loki claimed the archer’s throat.

“So you plan to break me with that talented mouth,” Loki cooed in that baritone rumble, guiding Clint’s motions by the tight grip on his sandy brown hair.  ”I do not think you know what disaster you’re inviting, my Hawk.  While my senses may be heightened in this form, so is my stamina.  I could use you until you beg for release and still I would hunger for more.”

Clint simply held that garnet stare and swallowed once around the god’s cock, ripping a throaty cry from Loki before that feral growl rose once more.

“Insolent brat,” he spat out, and snapped his hips forward, rutting deep into Clint’s wet heat.  The archer opened his throat and tilted his head just so, allowing the god to fuck his mouth as he gazed deep into his eyes.

Clint would smirk if he didn’t have a mouthful of Loki’s dick stretching his jaw to its limits.  Yes, he _was_ a brat, would forever _be_ a brat, and he was sure Loki would have him no other way.  He couldn’t quite help the trill of pleasure he felt knowing that he was able to inspire the god to mindless rutting with just his mouth. 

It was a good thing he’d had plenty of practice, too, because he had a feeling Loki wasn’t going to go easy on him just because he was mortal.  He’d challenged him, and he needed to be prepared to face whatever Loki threw at him.  Even now, he could feel the tremors wracking the body before him, trying to hold himself back from breaking Clint’s jaw with the force of his thrusts.  If Clint didn’t trust him not to actually hurt him, he might be worried, but Loki would no sooner truly harm him than he could pull the sun from the sky.

Their gazes locked, it was a contest to see which one would break first.  Clint’s need for air was negligible; he didn’t actually _need_ to breathe, not when he’d gotten this far in his attempts to break the god down.  He had no doubt that what Loki had said about his stamina was true; even in his Asgardian form, he was nearly insatiable, and Clint often found he had to be _extremely_ inventive in order to keep him content. 

But now, he could feel the blood pounding hot and heavy through Loki’s body.  This would not be a fleeting tryst, to be followed by murmured words and a fall into slumber.  No, this would be two beasts fighting for dominance, for the submission of the other, and in the end, they would no doubt be covered in the blood and sweat of battle.

Clint let a growl of anticipation rumble from his throat to thrum against the thick flesh buried within.

Loki ground his head back against the wall as the vibrations of his archer’s growl wrung through him.  He could feel his pulse racing, body throbbing in time to the beat of his heart, and each of the raised lines upon his body seemed to _burn_.  The slow drag of Clint’s mouth over Loki’s cock was driving the god mad.  He fought the urge to take his Hawk to the floor and rend the remaining tatters of cloth from his body, levering back those strong thighs to bury himself deep within.  The need to claim roiled low in his belly, and he contented himself for the moment in using Clint’s throat to soothe that ache.

Loki had to give the archer credit.  He was employing all his varied skills in a focused attempt to break the god.  The firm press of his tongue, teeth lightly grazing over Loki’s thick cock, nails tracing the ridges and whorls decorating the god’s body.  He could scarcely think, his lust so inflamed by his Hawk’s actions.

And through it all, Loki fought to control the beast inside.  The one that clamored to _bite_ and _claw_ and _take_  all that it so wanted.  He’d never allowed himself to come to such a state while in this form, and while the pleasure was simply blinding, the feral aspect was nigh uncontrollable.  The thought rose in his mind of Clint pinned beneath him while he rutted into the archer’s pliant body, and Loki snarled and pulled free from that grasping mouth.

As Clint dragged in a shuddering breath, Loki dropped to his knees in front of him and shoved his Hawk to his back, crouching over him.  Eyes flashing, Loki dipped his head and ran that roughened tongue up the underside of Clint’s cock.

Having his neglected cock given such attention caused Clint to nearly spill right there.  He held back, barely, and levered himself up on his elbows to glare down into challenging red.  As he watched, that long, cat-like tongue snaked out and ran a slow, deliberate stripe up his cock once again.

The muscles of his lower belly trembled at both the sight and the tingling pleasure that bordered just this side of pain.  Clint’s head fell back and he loosed a helpless groan at the ceiling, his hands clenching into fists beside him as he desperately tried to hold back from plunging them into that tangled fall of dark hair and forcing that mouth down onto his length. 

Instead, he focused on the heat and wet slowly laving his hardened flesh, on the constant rumbling in Loki’s chest that was reminding Clint more and more of a cat’s purr. 

His breaths came heavier the longer Loki teased him, flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive head of his cock before trailing back down to the base, only to tease his way back up again.

Clint knew exactly what he was doing; he was trying to make him beg for that mouth, waiting for that moment where Clint’s resolve crumbled under the need rising within at the hint of a promise.  Only when Clint begged would Loki finally grant what he wanted.

Well, Clint wasn’t really the begging type.

Instead of breaking as Loki expected him to do, as his body was _screaming_ at him to do, Clint lay flat on his back, letting his legs fall open in a wanton display.  His hands left their self-imposed exile, but they didn’t move towards Loki.  No, he let his hands trail up his own body, from his hips to his throat, passing over each still-seeping wound Loki had inflicted with his teeth and lingering just a bit before moving on.  His hands finally came to rest buried in his own hair, tugging sharply as his hips writhed against the floor, as if to entice the dark god into action.

Clint wouldn’t beg with words.  He preferred to let his body do the talking.

Loki’s eyes narrowed at the motions of his Hawk.  The way that his body twisted and shook; the rolling hips, and fisted hair.  It made the purr rumbling in the god’s chest sharpen into growls once more.  He wanted…no, _needed_  Clint’s submission; to hear those broken cries; to make the archer beg so prettily.  

If Clint wanted to truly break the god, he need only throw away his pride and plead for that which Loki so craved to give him.

And if he was set on teasing rather than giving in, well, _two_ could play that game.

Loki continued his slow lapping at Clint’s cock, fighting the urge to greedily swallow the archer’s length.  And as he circled his tongue around the head, dragging a hissing cry from the man beneath him, Loki slid one hand up Clint’s inner thigh and pressed his fingertips against his Hawk’s entrance.

Clint’s body stilled at the feeling of Loki’s fingers at his opening, his eyes flying open at the foreign sensation.  His breath left him in a deep growl as he lifted his upper body from the floor to glare down into those challenging red eyes.  He let a snarl curl his lip as he sat up fully, one hand fisting harshly into Loki’s hair, pulling him up to eye-level.

“Don’t think you’ve earned that yet, Princess,” he growled before darting forward to lick across Loki’s mouth.  He took his lower lip between his teeth and bit down sharply, and suddenly he had the taste of Loki’s blood in his mouth.

A rumbling growl surfaced from deep in Loki’s chest at the sharp sting of pain, and when he pulled back, his eyes were riveted on the sight of his blood staining Clint’s mouth.  As he watched, that insolent tongue peeked out and swiped the red away.

Clint could tell Loki was holding back with a monumental effort.  He’d obviously provoked something in him, a side of the god he hadn’t yet seen before.  There was no doubt he was playing a dangerous game, but he hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted to know _all_ of Loki, and if this was what the god needed, then Clint would be the one to give it to him.

Pressing his hands against Loki’s chest, Clint shoved him back until his shoulders hit the wall, crouching back on his haunches, his thighs spread wide to balance his weight.  Clint crawled between his spread legs and palmed the heavy flesh between them, giving a firm squeeze.

“If you want to use this on me, you gotta make me _want_ it,” he said.

Loki’s eyes bored into his own, and a slow, predatory grin spread over his face.

Pulling Clint against him, Loki took the archer’s length in hand and gave a long, slow pull.  He canted his own hips forward, wrapping his fingers around their combined girth and began to move, thrilling to the strained curses his Hawk hissed out.

Bringing his mouth to Clint’s ear, Loki purred, “And how to make you want _this_?”  He punctuated his sentence with a sharp snap of his hips, wringing a shuddering cry from the archer’s throat.  

Running his tongue along the shell of Clint’s ear, the god continued in a low rumble.  ”How to tempt you to take all I wish to give?  To have you spread and begging to be filled?  I burn for this, my Hawk.  I burn for _you_.”

Loki’s hand twisted, thumb brushing across the head of Clint’s cock, then sliding down to the base before beginning to stroke in direct opposition of the movement of his hips.  Dragging that rough tongue across Clint’s throat, the god growled, causing his Hawk to shiver in his grip.  

That small sign of arousal sent a spike of lust straight to Loki’s cock, and he once again took the smaller man to the floor, abandoning his restraint and swallowing the archer’s length whole.

The low rumble of Loki’s voice in his ear was almost enough to start him begging, and that growl against his throat caused a needy whimper to rise within him.  He bit it back with an effort that he could only muster because he could _feel_ how close Loki was to breaking.  Either he would concede, or he would simply take what he wanted.

At this point, Clint would be content with either outcome.  The steel cord of his pride was slowly being eroded by this new, feral Loki he’d coaxed out.  He was beginning to think this was what he’d wanted all along; he’d always been the more dominant one, and it had never been challenged quite this strongly before.  Submitting wasn’t in Clint’s nature.

But for the right person?  Someone who could truly dominate him, completely and utterly take his body over and make it sing for them?  Hell, that would be worth lowering his pride for.

As Loki finally took him into his mouth, running that rasping tongue over his heated flesh, Clint began to let his resolve crumble.  Burying his hands in that unruly fall of black hair, he simply held on as Loki moved over him.  He let his body surrender to the urge to buck and moan, no longer tense with the need to growl and posture.

That purring rumble was back in Loki’s chest now, as if he could sense Clint’s submission and was pleased.  The vibrations thrummed through him, urging a spiraling cry loose from his throat. 

Looking down into glittering red eyes, Clint finally gave the god what he so desperately wanted.

“Loki, _please,_ ” he gasped.  “ _Fuck me…_ ”

A needy whine spilled out from around Clint’s twitching cock, and Loki pulled off the archer’s length with a hard suck.  He flickered the tip of his tongue over the head, lapping away the bit of moisture gathered there, and then levered his Hawk’s thighs back, licking across Clint’s entrance.

The wail Clint voiced earned an answering snarl from the god crouched over him.  The smaller man twisted in Loki’s grip, pressing down to seek more of that strange, new friction against his most sensitive area while seemingly trying to simultaneously escape.  Loki held fast and set about trying to bring his Hawk to ruin.

Clint’s breath was caught in his throat, hips stuttering frantically as Loki worked his body.  He had never felt anything quite like this; the pleasure threatening to break him to pieces long before the god’s fingers even came into play.  And as those slender digits pressed slowly into him, preparing Clint to take so much more, the archer threw back his head and howled.

Loki moved up between Clint’s spread thighs, his fingers slowly working his Hawk open as his free hand curled loosely around that straining cock.  He stroked languidly as he sought that spot hidden deep inside that would drive Clint to the brink of madness.  And as Loki gazed down at the writhing, panting mess that was his Hawk, he found what he was seeking and pressed his fingertips firmly against it, dragging another broken cry from the man beneath him.

Clint’s body arched as far as it was able, every muscle tensing as he felt Loki press against that spot.  He couldn’t help the cry he let out at the sudden, sharp pleasure.  His cock gave a strong throb in Loki’s hand as he worked those long fingers within him.

Hands scrabbling for purchase, Clint’s fingers clawed and raked down Loki’s still-clothed thighs, nails dragging against the fabric almost hard enough to rip through.  Loki’s pleased growl bled through the thunderous pounding of his own pulse in his ears, and Clint dared to look up into his face.

Loki was gazing down at him as a predator would its conquered prey.  Any other time, for anyone else, Clint would have snarled at the thought of anyone thinking they could look down on him like that.  Loki, though… only for Loki would he surrender himself in this way, this completely.

As he held Loki’s gaze, he felt the god push his hips against him, the hard line of his arousal pressing against his lower back, sliding dangerously close to the cleft of his ass.  Clint’s breath hitched at the reminder of what Loki had for him.  He had to admit, he was equal parts curious and terrified.  Loki was… not small, and Clint had never been on this end of things before.  But at the same time, he wanted desperately to feel what Loki did when he took him.

When Clint pushed his hips down against that straining length, another of those deep, pleased growls echoed through the dark god’s chest.

“Are you ready for me, my Hawk?” he asked, giving Clint’s length a twisting stroke even as his fingers prodded at that bundle of nerves hidden deep within.

“ _Yes!_ ” Clint gasped, dragging his nails down Loki’s thighs once more, his nails catching on the nap of the fabric.  “No more teasing, Loki.  Please.  I want to feel you inside me.”  A sharp cry left his throat when his words earned him a firm, dragging stroke to his cock.  “ _Please!_ “ 

The sound was nearly a sob, and Clint twisted his head to the side, eyes clenched tightly against the sight of Loki above him, nearly devouring him with his eyes.

Loki murmured an incantation, the words rolling off his tongue in a guttural, arcane language, and suddenly the harsh friction of those seeking fingers was far less.  Clint loosed a moan at the wet slide as the god withdrew from his body, and the sound he made as Loki pressed the thick head of his cock against his entrance was dangerously close to a whimper.

That small sound cut through the haze of Loki’s feral hunger, reminding him that this was _Clint;_  his Hawk.  This man’s visage had brought him through the tortures of Hel intact.  His heart held the key to Loki’s redemption, and he was offering something to the god that none other had been worthy enough to claim.  

For as much as the beast inside clamored to take all that was offered, to rut until they were both drained and sated, this next part needed to taken slowly and carefully.

Loki forced himself to focus on the man beneath him, watching Clint’s face as he gently pressed forward.  His hands ran over the archer’s body, stroking lightly as he filled him inch by slow inch.  And the panting cries Clint uttered as he slowly sheathed himself rang in Loki’s ears.

Clint had to fight against the urge to squirm and push away from the slow invasion.  The feeling of being breached was too foreign, too much like giving in for him to be comfortable, and his body was railing against the intruding length.

He was surprised at the restraint Loki was showing.  Clint had been sure he would simply mount him, everything about his claiming told him it would not be gentle.  If he were truthful, most of his body’s reluctance was due to the fact he thought it would be much more painful than it actually was.  He’d been ready for it, bracing for it, but it never came, and as his body was slowly growing accustomed to the feeling of being stretched and filled, he looked up into those feral red eyes.

What he saw there caused his breath to hitch.  He’d been prepared for a vicious snarl, fangs bared in a show of primal need.

Instead, Loki gazed down at him, concern softening those harsh features, a low, growling purr rumbling in his chest.  His hands moved over Clint’s body, soothing the tremors that wracked him as he slowly took the god into himself.

There was the ever-present beast just behind those eyes, but it had been caged for the moment.  Clint felt a swelling ache in his chest to know that Loki had held back enough for this, that he knew even in the throes of his bestial need that Clint was much more fragile than he was.

Holding Loki’s gaze with his own full of need, Clint rolled his hips down, taking the last few inches of the god’s cock himself.  As he did, he felt him brush against the hidden spot within.  The sudden shock of pleasure wrung a cry from his throat even as he could feel the pulsing flesh buried deep.

Loki’s hands gripped the backs of his thighs tightly, stilling any further movement.  Clint could see the beast flickering behind those eyes, thrashing in its bonds, demanding to be let free.  He knew the longer it stayed caged, the more feral and ravenous it would be when it was finally let loose.

“Fuck me,” Clint moaned, enticing the creature above him to let go.  “Please, Loki…  I’m ready.  _Fuck_ , I’m so ready…”

A snarl curled Loki’s lip, those sharp fangs flashing dangerously at Clint’s goading, and he gave a tentative thrust into his Hawk’s tight heat. 

The press of Loki’s cock against that sensitive bundle of nerves as he thrust forward caused Clint’s vision to wash red.  His gasping cry spiraled up even as his fingers dug into the carpet, anchoring himself before he could fly apart.  The feeling of being filled was so overwhelming that for a brief moment he froze completely, his tremors stilling.  

And then Loki rocked his hips back before smoothly snapping forward again, and instinct took over.

Clint’s back arched and he rolled his hips, fighting against Loki’s grip on his thighs.  His body was screaming at him to _move_ , to feel every inch, every thrust, and he’d be damned if he was going to deny himself the pleasure of this.  

A small part of his mind was shocked at how quickly he’d given in; submitting himself so completely to his god, but then Loki rutted deep, hitting that hidden spot dead on, and all thought stopped.

Crouching low over Clint, Loki’s hands gave up their hold on his Hawk’s thighs, instead planting to either side of his head.  That feral snarl rolled on, rising from deep within his chest to spill past clenched fangs, lips skinned back.  

Clint’s gaze burned up at him, color high in his cheeks as he bucked up against Loki’s thrusts, and the archer’s strong hands wrapped around the god’s wrists, holding tight as he hooked his legs around that slender waist.  The drag of that thick cock, stretching him just so was enough to prompt a low, shuddering moan, and then a sobbing plea.  Just one word; yet it was enough to nearly cause the god to spill right then and there.

_“…harder…”_

Loki took him at his word, his snarl turning almost savage as he let Clint feel the full extent of his lust.  He thrust deep into his Hawk, sating that hunger he could feel in his belly at all times, both waking and sleeping.  He knew now what it was that kept him so insatiable for Clint’s touch; his Jotunn nature was what caused that constant yearning within him.  Everything he sought became a desperate craving.  This was no different.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  All of his other obsessions had turned out to be dismal failures, and he was always denied that which he so badly wanted in the end.  But Clint… Clint gave him everything he had ever asked for and more.  He gave Loki things he hadn’t even realized he’d wanted, offered pieces of himself as if that was what he was _supposed_ to do, as if Loki _deserved_ them.

 

So when his Hawk said ‘ _harder_ ’, Loki would give him exactly what he asked for.

Clint was slowly beginning to break apart beneath the rutting god.  His cries grew more desperate as they were forced out of his raw throat.

He didn’t know it could be anything like this, the heat and blinding pleasure melding together until he could barely form a thought, let alone words.  He felt himself nearing his end, and he both welcomed and loathed it.

Loki was showing no signs of relenting, and as his pounding thrusts continued, Clint could feel his body thrumming, tightening with his imminent release.  He clenched his teeth and tried to hold back, but it was a wasted effort.  Loki was going to wring him dry, there was no holding it back.

All Clint could do was anchor himself and hang on.

The needy cries his Hawk was uttering washed through Loki, dancing along the edges of his frayed and tattered restraint.  He’d held back as long as he possibly could, frantically trying to cage the slavering beast within.  All to no avail.  But even now, as Clint gave him leave to indulge his base nature, Loki struggled not to harm his archer with his blind lust.

Clint’s cock was twitching against his lower belly, thighs trembling as they were locked around Loki’s waist.  That tell-tale flush that signaled how close he was to his end was creeping down into his broad chest…and suddenly Loki burned to have Clint on his knees before him, bucking and arching as he reached his release.

The god pulled free slowly, causing his Hawk to voice a small cry at the loss of pleasure.  But when Loki manhandled Clint to his hands and knees, the smaller man pushed back eagerly, his body betraying him in his urgency to be filled.

Loki’s hands dug into Clint’s hips, and he pulled the archer down, sheathing himself fully in that tight, damp heat.  The howl his Hawk loosed was nearly inhuman, and Loki’s answering snarl echoed from the walls around them, each performing their part in a duet of need.

“Oh…- _goddamn it_ -, Loki,” Clint keened.  ”Fuck me!  Break me apart if you have to…just… _fuck_ me!”

Bending forward, Loki dragged that raspy tongue up Clint’s spine, before growling out, “Let us hope it does not come to that.”  And with a sharp snap of his hips, the god set about bringing his Hawk to his final ruination. 

It was too much effort to remain upright, Clint’s arms gave out and his chest fell to the floor.  His hips remained locked within Loki’s grasp as the god pulled him back onto his length, and the new angle drove a whimpering moan from the archer’s throat.  He wasn’t sure anymore if it was pain or pleasure he was feeling, it was all pounding heat and the sound of Loki’s growls ringing in his ears.  Each thrust jarred his body to his very bones; Loki was quite literally fucking him into the floor, his knees would be bruised and rubbed raw, just as he was sure his back would be.

It was a small price to pay to finally have _this_ , everything that Loki was, unveiled and unrestrained.

He was under no illusions that Loki would ever feel comfortable in this form.  Just knowing that he had shown his true face to Clint, despite how much he loathed even the thought of what he was, showed the true measure of just how much Clint’s words could sway the god.  He’d never realized how much power he had over him, how much Loki was willing to give if he only asked.

Right now, there was only one thing he wanted, and he was past the point of caring whether he begged or not.

“Loki… _please,”_ he gasped, turning his head to the side to catch a glimpse of the god’s face from the corner of his eye.  “Let me come.  I’m so _fucking close_ … please…”

 

“You beg _so_ prettily when I’m this deep inside you,” Loki growled, his hands leaving Clint’s hips to slide up his Hawk’s back.  One came to rest on the nape of his Hawk’s neck; the other curled under the mortal’s heaving chest and pulling him upright against the god.  Clint’s back arched, knees spread wide, and he swore bitterly as the angle changed once more, assailing his spot as Loki hips rolled up from beneath.

“Tell me, my Hawk,” Loki ground out, his breath washing hot over the skin of Clint’s throat.  ”When you come, will you scream for me?  Perhaps sob out your relief at finally reaching your end?  These broken little sounds of yours are ever so enticing…”

Clint moaned as he rocked his hips, taking the god deeper.  His breath was coming in ragged, panting gasps, and the tension in his belly was rising at an alarming rate.  And as Loki’s hand slid from the nape of his neck to lightly grip his throat, Clint let out a broken cry.

“Touch me!  Oh god, please…just touch me.  Make me come, Loki and I’ll do whatever you want.  I’ll scream…moan…- _fucking beg_ -…anything!”

With a snarl, the god’s fingers tightened around Clint’s neck as his other hand dropped to tease over the archer’s leaking length.  Clint’s hips snapped up, seeking blessed friction, and Loki ran out that rough tongue, swiping against his Hawk’s ear before curling his fist loosely around Clint’s cock.

 

Clint let out a sobbing wail, arching into the touch that was _almost_ enough.  He could feel the tension coiled tight in his lower belly, an aching need he sought desperately to ease.  It was useless, though, without Loki to urge him over the edge, and the god seemed intent on teasing him until he reached his limit.

Reaching back, Clint wrapped his arms around Loki’s waist, holding him tight against his back, as if to keep him from retreating any further than it took for him to thrust into his tight heat.  The rough, rasping tongue trailed from his ear, down the side of his neck to lap against the straining muscles of his shoulders.  A hot, searing pain bloomed at the nape of his neck; Loki’s fangs piercing his skin, and then the soothing sting of his tongue passing over the seeping wound.

“Is this what you wished for?” Loki’s low growl thrummed against the skin of his neck.  “On your knees, begging me to finish you?  I have wished this for so long, my Hawk.  Since you deigned to hand me your affections, I have thought of you kneeling before me as I worship you.”

Too much of his mind and body was focused on his nearing release to form words.  With a whimper, Clint leaned his head back against Loki’s shoulder, gripping those thrusting hips ever tighter.  The vibrations of Loki’s voice rumbled against his back, pushing him just that much closer.

“You wish to come, Little Hawk?” Loki asked, his fist tightening around Clint’s cock just the slightest bit.  Clint could only nod and gasp out a breathy “ _yes!_ “  Loki returned it with a pleased growl and snapped his hips viciously.  “Whatever I want, Clint,” he reminded him.  “Tell me, to whom do you belong?”

 

“T-to you,” Clint stammered, tremors of pleasure wracking his frame.  ”I’m _yours_ , Loki.  For as long as you want me.”  

 

“ _Mine_ ,” The god snarled, rutting forward again as he clamped his hand around the archer’s straining arousal and gave a long, slow pull.  ”Mine to mark; mine to take; mine to make come undone beneath my touch.  Oh, and to watch you break under my hands and mouth and _cock_ ,” Loki breathed, “What exquisite torture for us both.”

The wave of heat that roiled in Clint’s belly as Loki’s hand worked his length was unlike any he had ever felt.  It threatened to take him apart, bit by bit, until all that remained was a scorched and empty shell.  

And Clint welcomed that.

The god was intent on fucking every thought from his Hawk’s head.  To leave him a writhing, gibbering wreck, coated in the fluids of their coupling; marked completely as Loki’s own.  And as his hand sped over the thick flesh in his grip, he felt the archer begin to tremble and he gave a throaty purr as Clint thrust forward, fucking himself into Loki’s fist.  The motion pulled the smaller man half off of the god’s cock, and he hesitated for half a second before rocking back to take him deep again.

Clint quickly settled into a punishing rhythm, straining forward to gain that burning friction around his length, then slamming down to feel the drag of Loki’s cock over his spot.  His gasps became full, shuddering sobs, and he pressed harder against Loki’s hand at his throat, choking out, “Gonna…come.   _Oh please fuck me harder Loki I’m gonna_ ** _come_**!” 

Loki’s hand left Clint’s throat to wrap his arm around his Hawk’s chest, holding him still as he slammed up into the tight, clenching heat.  The hand wrapped around Clint’s straining length clamped down almost painfully, sending a jolt through his body that caused every muscle to clench tight, his mouth dropping open in a soundless cry, eyes open yet unseeing.  He took a heaving breath, then another, until his lungs burned, his throat ached with the need to cry out.

“So close, my Hawk,” Loki panted, the strain of his own release causing his voice to go even lower and more bestial than ever.  “So tight around me.  Come, then, and prove how very much you belong to me.” 

His hand stroked Clint’s arousal in time with his brutal thrusts, pulling his breath from his lungs with each pass.  Clint’s body trembled on the very edge, balanced on the precipice, until that one last thing pushed him over, like a damning gust of wind.

“Come for me, Clint,” Loki purred into his ear, before his tongue swiped over the skin just below.

And then he was, that tight coil of tension snapped, and his body froze, caught in the sudden crashing wave of release.  The breath he’d been holding was finally loosed in a cracked and broken wail that spiraled up into a near-scream.  His released washed over him like a bucked of scalding water, burning through his veins, circling through his entire body before spilling out of him in a torrent. 

Loki stroked him through it all, coaxing every drop of come from his body.  Clint panted and writhed and whimpered, twisting into the touch one moment, then trying to escape it the next.  Trapped in that space between his release and _too much_ , Clint was helpless under Loki’s hands.

 

And then the god began to speak in a low, murmuring rumble that Clint could feel vibrating through his body.  

“And so my little Hawk has been undone.  Filled and fucked until you screamed out your release for me, and me alone.”  That growl rose again, and Loki’s hips stuttered as his fangs clenched tight.

“I have taken you; marked you,” he hissed out, sounding almost pained with his effort to prolong his pleasure.  ”Now tell me.  Are you ready to be fully claimed, Clint?  Will you allow me to spill deep in your belly, to fill you as none other has ever dared try?  Is that something you _crave_?”

Clint uttered a wrung out sob, breath hitching in his throat as he nodded frantically.  ”Please…yes,” he rasped.  ”Come inside me, Loki.  Fill me up.”

Loki’s hips surged forward at Clint’s broken pleas, seating himself fully and moving in small, grinding circles.  He latched on to the archer’s shoulder, biting deep and voicing a feral snarl as he let go, painting his Hawk’s insides with his lust.

Clint gasped at the burning heat that pooled within him, and he rocked steadily back against the god, milking him for all he had to give.  The feel of that thick flesh pulsing inside him as Loki came soothed his inner beast, and he shuddered lightly in the god’s arms.

And through it all, he chanted raggedly, “Yours, Loki.  So fucking yours…now and always - _yours_ -.”

 

The snarling growl became a contented purr at Clint’s words, and he felt frantic rhythm of his pulse against his back as he continued to empty into him.  His body shuddered and trembled against him, as helpless as Clint had been in the throes of his own release.

Clint held Loki just as tightly as the god held him, so there was no space between them.  The pulsing throb within him was echoed by the wounds scattered across his flesh, some still seeping, others barely a scratch.  Loki’s fangs were still seated deep in his shoulder, and he could feel the blood oozing down his back, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about that.  It was just more of Loki he could take inside himself, and if there was pain, well… that was a small price to pay.

When finally Loki released his hold, Clint felt the strength leave him, and he fell forward in a heap.  He barely got his hands up in time to avoid crashing face-first into the floor.  His thighs trembled with the effort of holding his weight, and a dim thought that had been lingering in the back of his mind finally came to the forefront, gleefully telling him just how sore he was going to be in the morning.

With a groan, Clint realized he was pretty fucking sore right now, actually, he didn’t need to wait for the morning.

His small sound of discomfort alerted the sharp ears of the slowly-recovering god at his back, and Loki hovered over him, concern once more softening his features.

“Have I hurt you, Clint?” he asked, the worry in his voice plain to be heard.  “I am sorry if I have, I was not… myself.”

Despite the soreness he could feel radiating from where they were still connected, Clint huffed out a breath of amusement before replying.

“I asked for it, didn’t I?” he said, turning his face to the side and resting his head on the carpet.  “You didn’t do anything to me I didn’t want.”

Loki’s silence told Clint that even with his assurances, he blamed every twinge and throb on himself and wouldn’t be content until he’d made amends.  Even now, he could feel those long fingers sliding down his back, rubbing soothingly at the base of his spine.  Clint felt himself relax just a bit more, the tension lessening under the gentle touch.

With a pleased hum, Loki lowered himself until he covered Clint’s back, that rumbling purr vibrating against him, almost like a massage chair.  An amused grin spread over Clint’s face at the thought of coming home from a long mission and just sitting in Loki’s lap, letting him purr against him until he was boneless and pliant.

Somehow, he didn’t think that idea would go over very well with the fickle god.

Then again, maybe it would.

The thudding of Clint’s heart beneath his chest soothed Loki, bringing a contented smile to his face as he nuzzled the archer’s nape.  He pressed a kiss to the angry mark his teeth had left on that golden skin, and Clint uttered a quiet, satisfied sigh.

The god was loathe to separate himself from the delicious heat of his Hawk’s body, but the man had already given so much of himself; had paid in sweat, and blood, and come, and Loki had no wish to compound any of the discomfort Clint was sure to experience after such a vigorous display.  He eased his hips back, pulling free slowly as his hands stroked down the archer’s sides.  

Clint voiced a small moan at the loss of Loki’s cock.  He secretly lamented the silken drag of the god’s girth leaving his overly sensitized flesh, already missing that feeling of fullness; of being so completely claimed.  It was like nothing Clint had ever experienced before, and he was not surprised to find that it had awoken a hunger in him.  He wondered how long it would be until the next time he found himself pinned under Loki as the god snarled out his lust.

Dragging his Hawk against him, Loki rolled to his side and wrapped his arms around that solid frame.  ”Thank you,” he murmured softly, his breath warm on the side of the smaller man’s throat.  

Clint let Loki pull him down to the floor and against his chest, his arms tight around him as if to keep him in place.  As if Clint was in any shape to more, he wasn’t going anywhere tor the time being.  He let the warmth of the god seep into his back, the strong beating of his heart a thumping cadence that complimented his own.

Loki’s quiet murmur of gratitude caused a frown to crease his brow.

“For what?” he asked, his voice low and rough from exhaustion and his cries from earlier.

Loki buried his face against Clint’s nape and breathed in his scent before replying.  “There are too many reasons to name,” he said, his arms tightening further around him.  “You give me so very many things to be grateful for, my Hawk.”

Clint fought the urge to squirm uncomfortably.  It always gave him pause when Loki talked like this; he knew he had some strange kind of power over the god, Loki had admitted as much himself.  It didn’t mean he wasn’t confused as to why, or how, it had come to be.  Part of him wished he did know, because he hadn’t even been trying.

He was always waiting for the day he finally did or said something that would ruin this thing they had.  It was inevitable, really.

But for now, he had a happy Loki at his back, and he was more than content with that.

Clint’s silence at Loki’s admission was not unexpected.  The archer’s expansive ego did not extend to his own self-image; a fact that had not failed to catch Loki’s attention.

“Do you still fail to see your worth to me,” the god asked softly, his hand moving to cover his Hawk’s heart.  ”I had hoped we were past that.”

Clint gave a slight shrug by way of an answer.

Loki pressed another kiss to the archer’s nape.  ”If only you could see yourself as I do; feel the way I feel.  Then you would realize _precisely_ how much I value you.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that,” Clint snorted.  ”I just don’t know _why_.  There’s nothing special about me.”

Loki unwrapped his arms from around his Hawk, rolling Clint onto his back as the god moved over top of him.  He trained those luminescent red eyes on steel-blue, blinking up at him in confusion.  

“I will not hear you speak of yourself in such a manner,” Loki growled out, his tone low and emphatic.  ”Much as you could not bear to listen as I claimed myself a monster, I cannot accept that you think so little of yourself.”

“I just…” Clint began.

“No more,” Loki cut in, the emotion rising in his voice.  ”If my actions have failed to convince you of your worth, then you _will_ hear my words on the matter.”

Clint’s mouth shut with a snap, and he held Loki’s gaze; waiting.

“I have had dealings with mortals all of my long life, Clint, and none have ever deserved the designation of ‘special’ as much as you.  If I began at this very moment to sing your praises, I doubt I could finish before Ragnarok falls.  And yet you see yourself as _nothing_.  Mundane.  Blinded to your own worth.  None before you have ever brought me such joy, or understood me so completely.  You have accepted all that I am, unconditionally.”  

Loki paused then, bringing one hand up to cup the side of Clint’s face.  He leaned in closer, his eyes searching those of his Hawk.

“You mean _everything_ to me,” he whispered.  ”And it pains me that you cannot fathom _why_  I feel the way I do.”

Clint swallowed against the lump forming in his throat and stayed silent, his eyes wide and trained on the glowing red hovering inches away.  Loki’s words brushed against something inside that he’d almost forgotten existed, and if he was honest, he would have preferred it stayed that way.

It was one thing to know how Loki felt about him. but to see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice, feel it in his touch, it became real in a way that mere words could never truly convey.  Clint hadn’t set out to be anything at all to Loki.  Hell, he hadn’t even wanted to know he existed for a very long time after awakening from the thrall   Loki’s insistence that he wanted to help Clint move past his hatred had allowed a tiny spark to ignite, a holdover from his time under the god’s influence, but it had progressed far beyond that, and quickly.

At this point, it was safe to say Clint felt just as much for Loki as the god said he felt for him.

And therein lay the problem.

Clint wasn’t very good with feelings.  They complicated things, made it harder for him to detach himself from what he did as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.  They opened him up to no end of misery; ruined what could otherwise have stayed as it was before he fouled things up.

He was good at fouling things up.  It was one of the many talents he possessed that required little effort on his part.  He’d already come dangerously close more than once, whenever he said or did something to cause Loki any amount of hurt.  Each time he drove the god to question himself was just another step closer, another nail in the coffin.  He couldn’t help but wonder just how much more Loki was willing to put up with before he finally realized Clint was more trouble than he was worth.

He’d been silent for too long, Loki was waiting for him to say something, anything, and his eyebrows were doing that thing they did when he was starting to wonder if he’d done something wrong.

“I know you… care about me,” he finally said, still unable to utter that word that would both redeem and doom him in the same breath.  “I know you probably have your reasons.  But… I fuck everything up, Loki.  Every time.”

The god’s brow furrowed and he huffed out a small, frustrated breath at Clint’s words.  It was obvious that his archer felt that they were doomed to fail, and that he himself would bring about the demise of their relationship.  Loki’s heart ached that Clint carried such a burden, but he also realized that there was little he could do to dissuade him of such beliefs.  When you thought yourself fatally flawed, mere words could not undo such damage.  Only by his actions would Loki be able to perhaps change his Hawk’s mind.

“Not this time,” the god said firmly, his voice gone over to steel.  ”I’ll not allow any such thing to come to pass.”

“You may not have much of a choice.”

“One always has a choice, no matter what one does.”

“We’ll see about that,” Clint muttered, and turned his face to the side.

Loki gripped his Hawk’s chin between thumb and forefinger, bringing his gaze back to meet his own.  ”Yes,” he stated.  ”We will.  I know you doubt my commitment; my willingness to remain at your side.  And there is nothing I can do to convince you beyond what I am already doing.  Simply _being_ here.  And I will continue to be here.  For as long as you wish me to stay.  This is my promise to you, Clint.”

And with that, Loki bridged the last few inches between them and captured his archer’s mouth in a searing kiss.

Clint could let Loki have this, at least.  He would say no more on the subject, but it was far from being put to rest.  Not to Clint.  Not when his traitorous heart still balked at allowing someone to get this close; to _wanting_ them this close.  Never before had he given so much of himself to anyone.  He thought he might, once, a long time ago.  Now, he was glad he hadn’t, because it would never have been anything like this.

There were _so_ many reasons this shouldn’t be happening, and yet here they were, entwined in the aftermath of what Clint could only describe as an epic conquering. 

He didn’t _want_ this to end, he _wanted_ to believe Loki when he said he would stay no matter what, but there would always be that niggling doubt in the back of Clint’s mind.  How could he hope to keep the affections of someone like Loki when he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to return them?  He’d played fast and loose with his odds long before he ever met the god, bordering on reckless, never once thinking that his luck might run out.  It was one of the things that made him the best at what he did; over-thinking was for people who had _time_ to think, and Clint often found himself without that luxury.

Clint wasn’t stupid; he knew he was gambling with his very life, and more often than not, he felt it was worth it.  He wouldn’t be doing what he did if he thought it wasn’t.  After all, who would mourn him?

It was different, now.  He had something to lose, and some _one_ who would lose _him_.

Loki really did have the worst luck, falling for someone like him.

Even as he thought that, he let his arms circle the god’s back, and hold him close. 

Clint might not deserve such blind devotion, but he wasn’t about to let it go so easily. 

In fact, he felt it was one of those things worth gambling on.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and as always, any feedback is appreciated.


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